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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28722891">Switched at Birth: A Short History of Hermione Potter nee Malfoy and Draco Granger-Weasley</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/SentienceOfSilence/pseuds/SentienceOfSilence'>SentienceOfSilence</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bookworm!Harry Potter, Crack Treated Seriously, Dark Hermione Granger, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Good Draco Malfoy, Gryffindor Draco Malfoy, Harmony &amp; Co's Prompt Bank Garage Sale 2020, Hermione Granger (Draco Malfoy) Redemption Arc, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slytherin Hermione Granger, Smart Draco Malfoy, Smart Harry Potter, switched at birth - Freeform</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:26:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,844</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28722891</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/SentienceOfSilence/pseuds/SentienceOfSilence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Answer to the Following Prompt on Harmony and Co.'s Prompt Bank Garage Sale:<br/>Hermione is somehow a Malfoy but still ends up with Harry</p><p>    Prompter: jamcreynolds</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Draco Malfoy &amp; Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter (Platonic Friendship), Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Harry Potter, Narcissa Black Malfoy/Severus Snape</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Prologue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">



        <li>In response to a prompt by
            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarmonyandCo/pseuds/HarmonyandCo">HarmonyandCo</a>  in the  <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/collections/PromptBankGarageSale">PromptBankGarageSale</a>
          collection.
        </li>
    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. This work is done purely to practice English and for enjoyment. No profit is made from this work.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Narcissa Malfoy, like many respectable pure-blood women, had many vices. Firewhisky, gambling, house-elf abuse, and the like. But her most shameful vice of all, the greatest sin, was a fondness for muggle luxury brands. Like any other respectable pure-blood witch, she had her excuses: “Oh Lucius, look at that lovely Bvlgari handbag, it must have been crafted with magic!” Of course, the true source of the blame was likely her frequent affairs with a certain half-blood potions master, who, while utterly devoid of style in any sense applicable to the masculine gender, was knowledgeable beyond reproach in all matters of the female. Anyways, on this specific day Narcissa Malfoy was sauntering down Tottenham Court Road when she felt a distinct wetness between her legs, and not the kind she got from stroking the greasy hair of a certain Hogwarts professor prior to intercourse, but rather the kind one may expect nine months after the successful conclusion of said intercourse. Panicking, she forgot to rely on her well-practiced pureblood sensibilities, and neglected to inform her meek and faithful, if somewhat insane from over-punishment, house-elf Dobby of her predicament; rather, she uttered a most un-pureblood-like exclamation of help, and unfortunately for her, though fortunately for young Draco, she was rushed into a Muggle Hospital with the help of kind-hearted, though of course dirty and worthless, muggle scum, and taken into the auspicious care of the National Health Service.</p><p> </p><p>At the same time, in a Department Store somewhere in central London, two dentists were shopping for baby clothes. They had decided against knowing the baby's gender beforehand, informing the ultrasound technician as to their wishes prior to each visit, and were currently debating the merits of periwinkle blue versus canary yellow as a viable gender-neutral color for their offspring. Quite unfortunately for young Hermione, her mother began feeling a sudden onset of contractions, at which point Dr. Granger the husband decided to drive Dr. Granger the wife, with great haste, to the nearest hospital.</p><p> </p><p>The midwife at said hospital was in a terrible mood and more than half-asleep. She had been awake for nearly twenty hours, and was currently being sustained by the last dregs of her eleventh cup of coffee; she was not happy with the arrival of two women with emergency deliveries. In her utter tiredness, she may have accidentally mumbled boy instead of girl before wrapping the child at the birth of the Granger children, and may have omitted the mention of gender at all to the strange blond woman with no known family, who was barely conscious and in no condition to hold a child. Furthermore, she may have forgotten which tag went onto the ankle of which child, and, at the termination of her long and thankless shift, couldn't be bothered to worry too much.</p><p> </p><p>And thus, through the most fortuitous of circumstances, the Grangers welcomed home a beautiful, grey-eyed baby boy while the Malfoy family apparated out of the Hospital with an equally beautiful, brown-eyed baby girl. Lucius, incensed at his wife for shaming the Malfoy heiress with a muggle birth certificate, forbade his wife from ever leaving Malfoy Manor unescorted. She was distraught until she realized that the most likely escort would be one Severus Snape, who was not only rising in the ranks of the Death Eaters, but also had the wonderful cover story of being the new potions professor at a certain prominent magical academy. The icing on the cake, for Snape that is, was his being made the godfather of the young Hermione Malfoy, giving him a non-death-eater excuse to visit the delightful Narcissa Black, whose beauty and surprising compassion almost surpassed the image of Lily Evans in his mind. Hermione's brown tuft of curly hair, however, presented a slight problem: she must have got her curls from the Black side of the family, but the darker pigmentation could only have come from the half-blood prince. He would be returning with a permanent hair-bleaching potion shortly afterwards. Severus Snape chuckled at the idea of his own daughter being raised on Malfoy's gold. It would be the ultimate payback for the prick who bullied him and Lily for their blood statuses.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 1: From Diagon Alley to the Hogwarts Express</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>A/N: a few parts of this story may bear similarities to the novels, as it describes the same thing. However, I do not have a photographic memory, so don’t expect me to use the same words as she does.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Harry Potter looked around at the bustling streets of Wizarding London, his eyes were captivated by the colorful signs that advertised everything from cauldrons (“Yer list says pewter, Harry!”) to wands (“Don’t believe that Hippogriff dung, it’s Olivander’s yeh should’a been lookin’ at!”), to what now stretched before him: “Madam Malkins’ Robes for All Occasions.”, as the sign announced proudly in lurid purple lettering. Hagrid talked with Madam Malkin to make sure Harry got the right specifications for his school robes (“An’ throw in a Gryffindor scarf while yer at it, James and Lily’s son ain’t goin’ teh get sorted anywhere else!”).</p><p>“Hogwarts too?” asked Madam Malkin; why, this young lady is here to get fitted as well! She pointed to a girl with wild, bushy blonde hair who had her nose buried in a book. Harry could make out the fine gold lettering on the spine: <em>The Sacred Twenty-Eight: A Comprehensive History of Britain’s Purest Bloodlines.</em></p><p>“<span>Er, Hi, I’m Harry.” he said timidly. The Dursley’s had ensured that the only friends he grew up with were the spiders in his cupboard, the books in his local library, and that nice Boa Constrictor that somehow spoke Spanish. He thought he may have met a kindred bookworm, and decided to test the waters if he could find a friend his age. The girl raised her eyes once from the book with an huff, before her annoyed look turned into one of utter disdain as she laid eyes on Harry’s ill-fitting jeans and oversized t-shirt. She then reabsorbed herself into her book without a second glance.</span></p><p>
  <em>OK, not a talker. I guess it would have been rude to interrupt her reading anyways,</em>
  <span> thought Harry as he took his seat besides the girl.</span>
</p><p>“<span>Get out of my reading space, </span><em>mudblood</em><span>.” she said.</span></p><p>“<span>Uhh, sorry, I don’t mean any offence, but what’s ‘mudblood’?” asked Harry, scared that he had just committed some grave social faux pas by sitting down near someone while they were reading.</span></p><p>“<span>People who have no place in the magical world, now get out of my sight! I can already smell the filthy muggle air about you.” said the girl, brusquely shoving him aside as Madam Malkin emerged with her robes.</span></p><p>“<span>I’ll be here for you in just a sec, Harry.” said Madam Malkin, which shook Harry out of his momentary stupor. </span><em>Geez, that girl sounded just like Uncle Vernon when he complained about Indian and Chinese immigrants.</em><span> If there were more people like that in the magical world then he had to make sure to keep his distance from these bigots.</span></p><p> </p><p>When Hagrid picked him up he was still thinking of the rude blond girl who called him a “mudblood”. “Ah, that’d be young Hermione Malfoy. She’s from the worst sort o’ Slytherins. Her family’s been supporters o’ You-Know-Who for ages. They look down on people whose parents are muggles like yer mum was. That’s what the m-word means, an’ it's a really bad word.”</p><p> </p><p>“But if it's a bad word, why did she say it so publicly?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don't know why, it's the way it is with them blood supremacists, it's the way it's always been.”</p><p> </p><p>Harry was somewhat subdued after the encounter; not even getting his wand from Olivander could cheer him up (though the eidetic memory of the wandmaker was quite disconcerting in itself). If his parents had died protecting him from a dark wizard with supremacist beliefs, and if he had somehow managed to vanquish said dark wizard, then how were people like the Malfoys still walking free and teaching their daughter to judge people by their ancestry and not the content of their characters? Why was the world still the way it always was?</p><p> </p><p>------</p><p> </p><p>Harry walked down the length of the train, looking for an empty compartment where he could escape all the gawking and the stairs. <em>Seriously</em>, he thought, <em>has the wizarding world a modicum of respect? Isn't it rude to stare at someone's scar? I am not an animal at the zoo to be gawked at.</em> He stumbled upon a compartment whose sole occupant was a white-haired boy wearing a pair of dark sunglasses pouring over a copy of <em>Hogwarts: A History</em>. Hearing the noise of the clumsy raven-haired boy, he looked up.</p><p> </p><p>“Hi, I'm Drake, what's your name?” he asked, extending his hand.</p><p> </p><p>“I'm Harry. Can I sit here?”</p><p> </p><p>“I don't see why not. Plenty of room in this compartment.”</p><p> </p><p>The two young students chatted amicably.</p><p> </p><p>“What do you think of Hogwarts?” Harry asked, pointing to the book Drake was reading.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, from the book's description it looks a bit creepy, actually. It's in a medieval castle, what with all the dungeons and towers and everything. There's only one sport, too, something they call quidditch, if you're interested. I've never been too good at sports myself, though. My parents didn't really want to send me to Hogwarts, but they didn't have much of a choice, since the other option was to have our memories wiped.” he said, as both students shared a shudder at the prospect of being obliviated by the ministry.</p><p> </p><p>“What about the courses?” asked Harry. “I've been going over History of Magic and Charms.”</p><p> </p><p>Drake grew excited and Harry could swear his eyes lit up behind those sunglasses. “I've always been interested in Potions; I was really good at chemistry back in my school, and the two subjects seem to be quite similar. If only I could find a way to unify molecular physics with potions magic...”</p><p> </p><p>Drake was cut off by a red-haired boy peeking in. “Hey, can I come in, all the other compartments are full.” After Harry and Drake nodded their assent, Ron sat down and the three made their introductions, “What's up with your hair? You look like a Malfoy!” exclaimed Ron, pointing at Drake.</p><p> </p><p>“It's rude to point, Ron.” said Harry, slightly irritated. From personal experience he didn't enjoy being pointed at anywhere he went in the wizarding world.</p><p> </p><p>“It's fine, Harry. I have a disease called albinism. It's genetic, so you can't catch it from anyone, but it means that I have white hair and can't stand bright light, hence these,” he pointed to his sunglasses, “I also get sunburned easily, but it's less of a problem in Scotland, where Hogwarts is.”</p><p> </p><p>“I'm sorry.” said Ron.</p><p> </p><p>“Nothing to be sorry about, really. My parents used to say that it made me special, but it <em>pales</em>, pun intended, in comparison with being a wizard.”</p><p> </p><p>The train ride went on uneventfully, with candies and snacks purchased, chocolate frogs consumed, “Maybe not for me, Harry, my parents would kill me; they're dentists!” and information about books and quidditch teams exchanged. A generally good time was had by all in the compartment until a blond, bushy-haired witch showed up.</p><p> </p><p>“I heard Harry Potter was in this compartment.” said Hermione, looking at Harry. “I'm Hermione Malfoy, and I would like to apologize for our misunderstanding at Madam Malkin's last month. I would be happy to offer you a seat in my compartment, which would be far better company than this.” She sneered at Drake and Ron before extending her hand to Harry.</p><p> </p><p>“Hermione, isn't that a name from Shakespeare?” asked Drake.</p><p> </p><p>“Hermione is the name of a great sorceress in the 15<sup>th</sup> and 16<sup>th</sup> centuries who lived in Warwickshire, not that you muggles would understand.”</p><p> </p><p>“As I recall,” interrupted Harry, “you took one look at my clothes and yelled a racial slur at me, before telling me to 'get out of your reading space'. Well, my <em>friends</em> and I are perfectly happy in our current compartment, and this time, you are infringing on <em>our</em> reading space.” he gestured to the still-open book on the table.</p><p> </p><p>“Very well, Potter. Have it your way. But I would like to inform you that there are certain dangers in the wizarding world, and that associating with the wrong kind is a surefire way to attract them.” Brown eyes locked with green for a brief second before she turned around and walked out with an air of haughtiness.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, at least I know how Shakespeare got his character names.” quipped Drake.</p><p> </p><p>“You're <em>the</em> Harry Potter?” asked Ron, who was in danger of relapsing into his pointing-and-blurting habit.</p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, thought I still don't understand the attention.” asked Harry.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, you did defeat the darkest wizard in British History at the tender age of one,” supplied Drake. “I'm really sorry about your parents though.”</p><p> </p><p>“By the way, how did you get your name, Drake's a really cool name, but it isn't that common, is it?” asked Ron, desperate to change the subject.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh, my dad's a big history nut, and he used to serve in the Special Boat Service in the Navy, so he wanted to name me after Sir Francis Drake. Mum thought Francis was a bit too old-fashioned for a name, so Drake it is.”</p><p> </p><p>“Wow, that's so cool. Most wizarding names here are in Latin, like, Lucius, Severus, you know.” said Ron.</p><p> </p><p>“What would be a really cool Latin name, I wonder.” said Harry. “Harrius seems contrived.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don't ask me, Ron's what my mum gave me and I don't want to get on her bad side.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hmm, Drake does mean Dragon, and the Latin for Dragon is <em>Draco</em>. How does Draco Granger sound?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not too bad, Draco.” said Harry, “come on, we've got to get changed. The train's almost at Hogwarts.”</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes, Hermione is also the daughter of Helen in Greek Mythology; Draco is probably more into English Literature than Greek myths though.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 2. Sortings and Classes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The train gradually let off steam and came to a halt on the platform at Hogsmeade Station. While the older students boarded the thestral-drawn carriages, Harry, Ron, and Draco made their way to the friendly groundskeeper calling “Firs' years! Firs' years over here!” and were sent into the boats that brought them to the great hall. The Trio, plus Neville, marveled at the enchanted ceiling that reflected the night sky outside, down to the clouds that occluded the starlight. Chandeliers of everlasting candels illuminated the great hall, and horrors uncountable were told of the sorting that awaited them.</p><p> </p><p>“Fred and George said that we'd be fighting a Troll!” said Ron.</p><p> </p><p>“I'm not sure. All I can see is a hat on a stool from where I'm standing” replied Harry.</p><p> </p><p>“Relax guys, I read in <em>Hogwarts: A History</em> that all we'd need to do is put the hat on. Apparently the hat would read our personality traits.” said Draco.</p><p> </p><p>“That still sounds creepy.” said Harry. “What if it tells everyone our deepest, darkest secrets?” <em>Like Dudley did in primary school.</em></p><p> </p><p>“Don't worry Harry. The book says that the Hat is spell-bound to be confidential.”</p><p> </p><p>McGonagall called out the first name: “Abbot, Hannah”, starting the ceremony. As each name was called, the trio's trepidation deepened.</p><p> </p><p>“Granger, Drake!”</p><p> </p><p>Draco gave his friends a nervous glance before running to the stool, jamming the hat onto his head, as if doing so would allow him to get it over with faster.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Ahh, what do we have here?” said the Hat, “You have smarts, surely, more than a little bit of bravery too. Helga would appreciate your kindness... But your ambition stands above all, you have a desire to prove yourself. Salazar would love to have you as a member.”</em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>No! Not Slytherin, Not Slytherin!” supplicated Draco.</em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>Not Slytherin, eh? You would do well there, but if you insist, then -</em></p><p> </p><p>“GRYFFINDOR!” yelled the Hat, as the pale boy hurried to the table cheering loudly and rambunctiously for their newest member. A pair of red-headed twins patted him on the back before turning his hair green, causing the entire table to laugh and Draco's face to turn beet red.</p><p> </p><p>A few more names passed before it was another blonde's turn.</p><p> </p><p>“Malfoy, Hermione!” called the Deputy Headmistress.</p><p> </p><p>The young witch strutted confidently down the steps, putting on the hat with an aristocratic air.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>Hmm, interesting, very interesting. You do have an ambition, but more than enough brainpower to back it up. No hope for you in Hufflepuff, alas, your misguided ideals preclude you from that truly noble house. Your bravery, on the other hand, is certainly the finest Gryffindor material. Tricky, very tricky...”</em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>I demand you put me in Slytherin!” yelled Hermione, slightly panicking at the thought of being in the house of lions. What would her father think?</em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>Your father is not your master, young one. He is not even your real father, as he does not match it in any sense of the word.”</em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>Nonsense. Either put me in Slytherin or I will write father and have him transfer me to Durmstrang!” Father would beat me if I didn't.</em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>With your temperament, Slytherin would lead you down a path of great darkness, young maj-bob.” warned the Hat.</em></p><p> </p><p>Dumbledore glanced down at his watch, the swirling stars indicating that nearly four minutes have passed. It had been ten years since he had last witnessed a hatstall.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>There is nothing to fear in darkness.” said Hermione fiercely.</em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>Such Gryffindor courage, and impulsiveness to boot. Godric's house would be your truest abode; but alas, your wish is my command –</em></p><p> </p><p>“Slytherin!” said the Hat reluctantly, at a lower volume than any of the previous announcements.</p><p> </p><p>The young witch put the hat down shakily before joining the table of green and silver, to a much subdued applause as the sorting recommenced. “Perks, Sally-Anne!” “HUFFLEPUFF!”.</p><p> </p><p>“Potter, Harry!”</p><p> </p><p>The entire hall stilled, waiting for the boy-who-lived; every house except Slytherin held their breaths, crossed their fingers, and hoped the savior of the wizarding world would become one of them.</p><p> </p><p>“<em>My, my, another impressive mind here, I see. Rowena would be well-pleased. You have a great capacity for kindness, despite your upbringing. No thirst for vengeance, but a burning desire to prove yourself. Brave does not begin to describe you. Fearless would be better. I can see Salazar and Godric fighting over you; if only you were born a millennium earlier... Slytherin would do well for you, I think.”</em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>Not Slytherin, Not Slytherin. Please not Slytherin.”</em></p><p> </p><p>“<em>Seriously, what is the matter with you muggle-raised kids and Salazar's house? Fine, since it's a toss-up anyways,</em></p><p> </p><p>“GRYFFINDOR!” bellowed the hat, and Harry ran off to join Draco (whose hair had thankfully returned to its original silver) at the rowdiest of tables.</p><p> </p><p>Finally, with Ron Weasley being sorted into Gryffindor, Dumbledore declared the start of the feast with four eccentric words: “Nitwit, Blubber, Oddment, Tweak! Dig in!” After enduring one of the longest sortings in recent history, the students were all too happy to oblige.</p><p> </p><p>The next day, after getting their timetables for tomorrow's classes, Draco, Harry, and Ron set out bright and early for breakfast. After taking four flights of stairs down, three up, and five more flights down, they finally reached the dining hall five minutes before breakfast ended. Needless to say, Draco's suggestion of making a map of the school was unanimously agreed upon. The three spent the the rest of the day plotting the path to each of their classes, helped by the passing ghost or two. Ron marveled at the mechanical pencils Draco and Harry used to annotate their maps, mentioning his father's interests in Muggle devices and the muggle-raised kids promised to send him a few, with illustrated diagrams, when they got home for Christmas. (“It'd be nice to see if they could be magically enhanced, too. Unbreakable leads with self-replicating refills, guys, how cool would that be!” said Draco, “Though it's a shame the professors still insist on parchment and quills.”)</p><p> </p><p>It was four o'clock in the afternoon before the boys finished plotting their classrooms on the map. “Hopefully we'll be able to avoid the nastier trap-doors along the way” said Draco.</p><p> </p><p>“We've still got three hours until curfew.” said Harry. “Care to check out the library?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sure! It'd be great to read some of the recommended books in the syllabus!” answered Draco.</p><p> </p><p>“Eh, we'd have enough of books in class, wanna play some exploding snap?” suggested Ron.</p><p> </p><p>“I don't know; we could always do that after curfew.” said Draco.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, have fun reading!” said Ron, returning to the common room to enjoy a game of gobstones with Seamus and Dean.</p><p> </p><p>“I guess it's easier for the wizard-raised kids; they've been growing up in magic their whole lives.” remarked Draco.</p><p> </p><p>“Come on, Draco, last one to the Library is a rotten egg!” said Harry as Draco ran after him. It was nice having a reading partner for once.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>The first few classes proved far more interesting then they expected. In transfiguration, their Head of House Professor McGonagall turned herself into a cat and back before instructing the students in turning matchsticks into needles. Harry and Draco, having read the textbooks in advance and practiced wand-movements the previous night, were the first and second, respectively, to finish their transfigurations. McGonagall was quite impressed with both of them and gave ten points to each of them, who shared a hi-five below the desk. Ron had considerable trouble with his matchstick, though, and was forced to ask an irate Professor McGonagall for a third explanation on texture transformations, before she passed him onto Harry and Draco, who had already been given permission to experiment with two-dimensional transfiguration.</p><p> </p><p>“Mate, the information is on page three.” said Draco impatiently. “You're supposed to visualize the texture change before you wave the wand, not during it.”</p><p> </p><p>“What do you mean by texture change?” asked Ron for the fourth time.</p><p> </p><p>“Maybe you're coming at this from the wrong angle. Look, the wood on the matchstick is rough and splintery, right? Just focus on making it smooth before you wave your wand. Like this.” Harry changed the matchstick's end to silver metal before changing it back. “Now you try.”</p><p> </p><p>Ron copied Harry's movements, closing his eyes and concentrating on the final result, succeeding after the second attempt.</p><p> </p><p>“Two points for excellent tutoring, Mr. Potter.” said McGonagall, smiling fondly. “You remind me of your father. He was very gifted with transfiguration, though your mother was more of a potions prodigy.” Harry blushed with the praise.</p><p> </p><p>The classes continued to be rewarding throughout the Day. Harry and Draco's point-earning streak was supplemented by Neville Longbottom, a shy boy from the same dorm, earning twenty points for correctly demonstrating how to repel the Devil's Snare in front of the entire class. Ron showed an aptitude for charms, earning several points from the diminutive Professor Flitwick, though he attributed this to his mother drilling household spells into his brain since he was six years old. Exhausted from running around the castle, the boys decided to go to bed shortly after finishing their homework. It wouldn't do to miss classes the next day.</p><p> </p><p>Harry lay on the bed, thinking of his mother and the list of potions questions he and Draco had prepared to ask tomorrow. He excelled in his father's favorite subject today, and he was hoping he would do his mother proud. He couldn't wait for potions class.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>According to J. K. Rowling, maj-bob is an archaic term for muggle-born with a positive connotation, suggesting that their magic has "bobbed" to the surface. It was used in the era of the Hogwarts founders. Hermione probably doesn't realize what it means, as it would have been purged from the dictionaries of any "respectable (bigoted) pure-blood family".</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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